


Ganymede.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Do You Permit It?, Ficlet, Greek God!Enjolras, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a god, but you are never his Ganymede.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ganymede.

**Author's Note:**

> So yesterday I [nattered about how Enjolras is a refugee from Homer](http://lannamichaels.dreamwidth.org/717447.html), and today I wrote this. Tomorrow the world?

You are Ganymede, but you're no prince, merely a man as other men are, doomed to a life of toil and sweat and blood, bleeding as all men do. Your Zeus will not raise you up, you will never bear his cups, so you drink from yours and you wait and you watch. Your hero won't come for you; he is already here and he spurns you. He will never allow you to live to serve him, he will never allow you to find your happiness through him. He will never grant you immortality at his feet. You are his, but discarded.

You are Ganymede, but you're not worthy. Your god wants neither your service nor your sacrifice. He says now is not a time for gods to hold themselves apart, and so he does not. He would stand before you as your equal, but never as your god. He would like to be your brother, if you could ever dare. But you are the conquest, not the conqueror, you will never drag the gods off of Olympus. You will never obey him in the only way he wishes to be. You never do.

You are Ganymede, but he wants Patroclus, and you will not send him to die. It's backwards, you should be the sacrifice and never him, but he places his hands on your shoulders, his stern gaze chiseled out of marble, and he commands your attention. You laugh at him, because you are never his Hephaestion, you are merely one conquest among many, one worshiper among the masses, and you are unacceptable.

You are never his Ganymede; he throws you away. He succeeds as well as he ever does; you disobey him at the last as you always do. You fight your way back to his side and you die Hyacinth to his Apollo, your death for him and your death because of him, and the last thing you see is your god's pleased smile.


End file.
